Prisoners of the Williwaw

by Ed Griffin

  "I'd be honored to be your big sister. I'll write to you."

  "It's not the same."

  "I know." Latisha dropped her bag and hugged the girl. Jeannie hung on to her and Latisha could feel her sobbing into her.

  "Don't go," she cried

  Latisha squeezed her. This was likely the nearest she'd get to motherhood. The heart had reasons the mind knew nothing about. She should stay.

  People were moving forward. Gilmore took Latisha's arm, drawing her attention away from Jeannie. "Please, stay," he said.

  "No, Gil, it's over." She picked up her bag and stepped toward the quickly forming line.

  He pulled gently on her arm to stop her. "Latisha, I don't know what to say. A house, a baby, a family, settling down. All of it. Anything you want. The only thing - " his voice broke - " the only thing - I love you."

  "Today you do."

  "And tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow you'll be Boss Gilmore." She pulled away from him and walked firmly toward the line.

  He followed. Soldiers with semi automatics directed the women and children returning to the mainland to enter a roped off area near the door to the airstrip.

  He stopped her again. "Proof of my love for you is that I'm here. I ought to be at the Sea Otter getting things ready for - getting things ready."

  "Ready for what?"

  He hesitated. "Oh, we're just having a little party tonight to welcome the new men."

  "Frank put a curfew in effect. Why are you holding a party - Oh, no, I see Gilmore. This is the beginning of your takeover, isn't it?"

  She caught his motion, the slight shuffle, the glance away, techniques he used to give himself a moment to think. "Isn't it?" she repeated.

  "It's just a party."

  "Stop lying, Gilmore. Are you planning a take over?"

  "Latisha!"

  "You are, aren't you?"

  Again the shifty glance away. No matter what he said, it was true. She knew him too well.

  "Go away, Gilmore. I'm leaving. Go. I don't want you to see me off. Just go. I'll send you the divorce papers. Now leave."

  She gave him a slight push and stepped toward the soldiers and the line.

  He got in line with her. "Just wait until the next group comes. In the spring."

  "No."

  The first soldier in the line blocked Gilmore's way with his rifle. She stepped into the roped-off area and started moving forward. There were about twenty-five people ahead of her. Judy Villa stood near the front of the line. Latisha turned around to see if Frank was still at his desk. He was. She saw Gilmore walking dejectedly toward the door.

  The line of people stopped at the door as each person presented papers. Twenty people to go. Soon she would be flying over the treeless tundra, over the rough seas, over America to Thanksgiving in New York. The parades. The empty, lonely life of pre-Christmas in New York. No family. No mother to buy a present for. No nieces or nephews. Sears from 9 to 5, buying medical devices. A new lightweight walker, a new bathtub rotary device. No society to build, no revolutionary prison to help create, no gentle man to talk to, no girl to mother.

  Fifteen people to go. As each person left, the soldier opened the door and Adak's fierce weather poured in. The forecasters were predicting williwaws. She could see the military hurrying people toward the door so they could leave before the williwaws.

  Ten people to go. She was close enough to have the rain hit her each time the door opened. This fierce weather had changed her. Maybe she'd had it too easy in life. A doctor's daughter. This was the first time in her life she was part of a worthwhile cause.

  How strange that a climate guaranteed to ruin a person's looks had so improved hers. The morning mirror didn't lie. On Adak her eyes sparked with excitement, her skin glowed, she had a smile for everyone.

  Five people to go. There was no doubt Gilmore and the Florence prisoners were plotting against Frank. Was she abandoning her friends when they needed her most? Maggie. She'd never been so close to another woman in her life. Strange that they should be friends, they were so opposite. She the eastern urban sophisticate; Maggie, the mid-western factory office worker, a simple, loving woman.

  Three people left. What if she were to step out of the line and stay until spring as Gilmore had suggested? But it wouldn't be for Gilmore. No, it would be to help Frank - and yes - to be with him. And that would be big trouble.

  Again the door opened. A fierce wind blew at her, driving her against the ropes. If she stayed it would be like a fierce wind let loose on the island. Gilmore would know she was staying for Frank and that would make things worse between the two men.

  But couldn't she just stay for herself? To be a woman in her own way and the devil take the consequences?

  She turned and looked back into the terminal. Jeannie still stood there, looking at her, crying, waving good-bye.

  One person to go. The door opened, the person struggled out. The wind circled around the departing person and bit into her as well. It was strange, but she felt the wind mocked her. "You're the fluff of a milkweed, Latisha Goodman Gilmore. Williwaw is blowing you away."

  She turned and spoke to the soldier who was collecting papers. He sent her outside to his commanding officer.

  Chapter 34

  "What kind of fuckin' restaurant is this, Villa?" Duke Jenkins, the leader of the Florence prisoners, asked as he approached Frank's table in the Bering Cafeteria. It was coffee break on the afternoon of orientation, the Duke's first day on Adak.

  Frank watched him come closer. The Duke walked like so many prisoners he had seen. They looked like inverted triangles, with massive chests and slim middles. They strutted around the prison yard, daring anyone to take them on. Frank swore many of them were top-heavy.

  The Duke's new wife accompanied him, a woman well over two hundred pounds by the name of Saturday Phillips, an inmate herself.

  Frank noticed how the Duke looked at Saturday expectantly when he said 'fuckin' restaurant,' as if this statement would impress her.

  It was his job, his challenge to integrate the Duke into the system they had developed. Hopefully he would agree to sit on the council.

  A plane flew overhead. Frank knew Judy and Latisha were on this flight. He shuddered with the emotion that swept over him. Both women who meant something to him were leaving. Gone was any idea of family, of love. Life, from now on, would be work.

  "You got a fuckin' cold, Villa?"

  Back to work. The Duke. How to involve him, without letting him take over?

  The Duke swung his arm around the cafeteria. "I said, this ain't no fuckin' restaurant." Again he looked to Saturday for appreciation.

  "It's the only restaurant we have right now," Frank said. "Sit down. Let me get you some coffee and dessert."

  "Fuckin' right," the Duke said. Frank knew he was in for a lot of 'fuckin' this' and 'fuckin' that' during this discussion. "What kind of dessert they got?"

  "Cheesecake. That's all."

  "Shit."

  Frank picked up three coffees and two pieces of cheesecake on a tray and returned to the table. His heart still ached with the departing plane, but he had to get the Duke onto the council.

  The Duke was in his late thirties, early forties. His record showed him to be a perpetual criminal. After a youth spent in reform school, he was released on his eighteenth birthday. Four days after his birthday he robbed a 7-11, killing the manager. He'd been in prison ever since.

  Four days of freedom since age twelve.

  When Frank read the Duke's record, he cursed the Bureau of Prisons for sending him to Adak. Duke Jenkins had killed two men in the Ohio Penitentiary at Lucasville before they shipped him to Florence.

  "Listen, Duke, I want to talk to you about something."

  "Hang on, Villa. Me and Saturday's got lots of questions about this place. Right, Saturday?"

  She nodded, but not very enthusiastically.

  "This Gilmore, tell me about him."

  The Duke was fishing, not ve
ry subtly, trying to find out how much firepower Gilmore had. It was clear that the Duke was not in Gilmore's back pocket.

  "He's on the council. That's what I want to talk to you about."

  "He's on your council?"

  "It's not my council. It's our council."

  "Sure, Villa. Listen, where did all the guns come from on this place?"

  "Guns are against the law here."

  "Does Britt have a gun?"

  Frank felt his anger rising. "Jenkins, I asked you to see me because you're the leader of these men. This place belongs to you now. To your people. I want your voice on the council."

  "And who is Carl Larson?"

  "He raped and killed a woman. We're hunting him."

  "Is he Gilmore's muscle?"

  "Was. Gilmore tried to get my man, Joe Britt, as his enforcer."

  "So Britt is the top muscle on the island?"

  The man was impossible to talk to. Maybe talk would come later, but for now he had to keep the Duke in line. "Yeah, Britt's a killer. Check him out. He kills barehanded."

  Saturday finished her cheesecake and yawned. "See that, Villa, you're boring my new wife. She wants to get those sheets smoking."

  Saturday laughed.

  Duke went on. "Me and Saturday's been locked up a long time. I - " He stopped abruptly. Frank saw Saturday reach under the table. She reached so far under, he was sure it wasn't just the Duke's knee she was grabbing for. Duke looked away from her and an expression of fear came over his face. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "Holy shit," Saturday muttered. "That thing is big."

  Rather than laugh or seem pleased, the Duke grimaced, still turned from her.

  He's trying to hold it back, Frank figured. Maybe a problem with premature ejaculation. The poor guy. With a lifetime in prison, the man had little experience with women.

  "Just . . . Just you watch, Villa. You're gonna see some fireworks tonight."

  Saturday poked him. "Villa's not going to see us."

  Duke looked flustered. "Course not. Hey, Villa, what's that thing around your neck? You a fuckin' faggot?"

  Frank felt the energy drain out of himself. He'd had enough of the Duke's posturing. He ignored the question. "Now, Jenkins, about this council…"

  The Duke interrupted him. "Scuttlebutt says your woman took off on you, Villa. Gilmore's too."

  Yes, that was the sore spot in his heart. This ass-hole killer had found it. The women had flown away and left him with one Duke Jenkins. The future didn't look very bright.

  "Yes, my wife's gone. Now how about serving on the council? I want to hold a meeting tomorrow. You're gonna be making the laws here."

  "How come you got this night patrol working? Don't you trust us?"

  "We lost six people our first night here. I'm not letting that happen again."

  "Never mind six people. I hope you don't lose your night patrol, Villa. People watching me makes me real nervous."

  Frank stared steadily at the Duke. "And, Duke, it makes me real nervous when guys don't pay attention to the rules here."

  "You a fuckin' pig or somethin'?"

  "Listen, Villa," Saturday interjected, "you got to be kidding about no indoor crappers."

  "We've got a guy working on it. He's sitting right there. Nelson the Plumber."

  Duke turned around to see where Frank was pointing. "Hey, Nelson, come over here," Duke called out.

  Nelson got up and casually walked to Frank's table. "Listen, Nelson, I'm the top con from Florence. Me and my wife want indoor crappers right away."

  "Boss Gilmore claims the Bureau of Prisons is gonna help, but he didn't win the election, so I don't know."

  "What kind of fuckin' gibberish is that?"

  Nelson pulled a dirty, worn notebook from his back pocket. "Where do you live?"

  The Duke looked to Villa.

  "They live in Marine Barracks," Frank replied.

  Nelson paged through his book, wetting his finger to turn pages. Frank liked this man with his one-sided devotion to plumbing and his lack of respect for any personage, including himself.

  "Hurry up, you fuckin' ass-hole."

  Nelson put his finger on a page and read it slowly, then he looked up. "Late next year," he said with finality.

  Duke stood and grabbed Nelson by his parka. "The hell you say."

  Nelson stared at the Duke without batting an eye. He said nothing. When the Duke let go of him, Nelson glanced at his notebook again. "There are three major breaks in the sewer system leading to the Marine Barracks. Unless you have contacts in the Bureau or you can persuade Villa to give me more money, you'll get your crapper late next year." He flipped his notebook shut and started to walk away.

  Duke grabbed him by the collar. "I'm the Duke."

  Nelson remained calm. "Sewer system works on gravity. The shit flows down. Don't matter whose shit it is."

  "You getting smart?"

  "No, I'm just talking about shit."

  Duke glanced at Saturday, who looked unhappy. Duke let Nelson go and turned to Frank. "Listen, Villa, me and the boys ain't gonna put up with this kind of shit."

  Saturday laughed cynically. "That's the question, ain't it, where do you put your shit? I sure as hell ain't gonna traipse out to no outhouse in this weather." She raised her massive arm and shook her big fist at the door Nelson had departed through. "You and me, Duke, should reason with that son of a bitch."

  Frank glanced at his watch. They had to get back to the orientation session. "Final word, Duke. In your houses after curfew. No guns. No partying. Now what about serving on the council, helping make the rules here?"

  Duke got up and Saturday hefted herself up. "Fuck you, Villa," he said as he walked away.

  * * *

  That evening Duke Jenkins stood by the bed in his apartment. The Duke was scared, really scared for the first time in a long time. Across the bed from him, Saturday, all 237 pounds of her, was getting undressed.

  His left eye twitching, he pulled the shade down against the damp blackness of Adak and turned back to the bed. Saturday had taken off her big brown skirt and folded it neatly on a chair.

  She looked over at him. "Sure beats prison, don't it, Duke?"

  "Fuckin' right." He was grateful for the conversation - she was starting to unbutton her blouse. "Say, how'd you hear about this place?" he asked.

  "The bitch supervisor from our cell block came home from this corrections convention and started talking up this Adak thing to me. She even had your picture. I didn't pay much attention to it. I figured the warden would never let me go. I was real trouble for them. I had the record for slashing in the place - four, two bitch guards and two girls I got in fights with."

  "No shit. I held the record for offing people at Lucasville in Ohio before they shipped me to Florence. And the screw that told me about you had just come home from a corrections convention - the one in Louisville, I think."

  "The same one."

  She took off her blouse. He almost made a little nervous noise in the back of his throat, but he swallowed in time. She reached behind herself to undo a large black bra.

  He knew he had to get started. He pulled the knit sweater off his powerful chest and unbuttoned his blue shirt. He took a short, nervous breath. "Hey, those are some tits. Mind if I have a feel?"

  She turned toward him and smiled.

  Boy, that was a good line, he thought as he walked around the bed to sit next to her. This is going to go good.

  He sat down and put his hand carefully on the big right breast. He could feel himself getting excited.

  Saturday laughed a little and reached down to feel his penis through his pants. "You were never married, ain't that right, big Duke?"

  "Yeah, but I had my share of women, fuckin' right, never you mind."

  "Sure, I bet so, with a chest like that." She moved her hand up over the black hair showing through his unbuttoned shirt.

  He put his left hand behind her and pulled her closer and kissed her. This is going to
go good, he thought. Saturday wasn't like that whore so many years ago who laughed at him. Hell, he was just a kid then, released from reform school only the day before because he turned eighteen. He'd gone with another guy to a house where they could get some, and this whore had told him to, "come on, come on, get that thing hard, the meter's running." She kept looking at the clock and after a half-hour she called for the bouncer to throw 'this homo' out. That was two nights before he killed the clerk in the 7-11 store.

  No, it was going to be different with Saturday. He could feel her nipple rising up with the gentle massaging of his hand.

  She broke off the kiss. "God, did I miss this in prison. Shit, Duke, you're really turning me on. How the hell did you survive all that time in prison - twenty years?"

  "Never mind that now." Some guys had queens or were queens, but he was a beater, a late night masturbator. He didn't know what she would think of that.

  She took his hand off her breast and slid it down inside her panties and held it there.

  His heart beat faster now. Damn, this is going to go good, he thought. He remembered getting just this far when he was eleven. A neighborhood girl let Bill touch her there. Bill was the son of the foster family he was staying with - and when Bill told him to try it, he didn't, because he was too shy. The neighborhood girl reached over and put his hand down her pants.

  Saturday looked at him now and her eyes were shining. He had never seen that look in a woman's eyes before. She reached over and undid his belt and began to pull at his shorts.

  Duke stood up and removed all his clothes. "My God, that's nice, very nice," she said, staring at him. In one smooth motion she stretched herself down on the bed and slowly began to take her panties off, her hips gyrating seductively.

  Duke stood at the edge of the bed, watching her. She reached up and pulled him down on top of her, placing his head between her two large breasts. She kissed him gently on the forehead.

  Oh shit, Duke thought, here we go.

  He inched forward. This was the hard part now.

  "Come on now, take me, take me, Duke," she whispered. "I'm yours."

  Oh Jesus. Where was it? Where was it? He lifted himself up and felt his penis move around, searching. He started to sweat, and now - Oh shit - he was losing it, he could feel his penis shrinking.